


The End

by theowletqueen (nerdqueenenterprise)



Series: Love Is Not Love Which Alters When It Alteration Finds [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death from Old Age, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Sam Winchester/Castiel if you squint, but not really, human!Cas, mute!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdqueenenterprise/pseuds/theowletqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You thought it couldn't get any worse, but it did.</p><p>Castiel and Sam lost Dean forty years ago. They were never okay after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> 'Sorry' doesn't even describe it anymore..........

Time hadn’t been kind to Castiel. He had been on his last hunt nearly thirty years ago, and even that had nearly killed him. The last twenty-five years he had rarely left the library but the older he got, the more facts and memories eluded him until finally there were only two people in the whole world he would ever recognize. For one, he asked frequently. He never came. The other was, though his health was steadily declining as well, always at his side.

Finally, his body had given up and Castiel had stopped ever leaving his bed. He spent his day watching nature documentaries and reading the same few books again and again. He never remembered the story anyways.

Sam, though, Sam he remembered. 

“Sam, what did Dean do to your hair this time? I thought it was brown? Why is it grey?”

Sam smiled gently at him and helped him sit up so he could fluff the ex-angel’s pillows again.

“Sam, will Dean come to visit soon? Why does he always stay away on hunts for such a long time?”

The once-tall hunter pushed Castiel back into the pillows and sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh, pulling out a notebook and scribbling into it. He turned the paper around so Cas could read it:

_You will see Dean soon, I promise._

Cas nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillows.

“Sam?”, he whispered suddenly. “Are we being overheard by demons?”

He supposed the slight rustling of clothing meant that Sam was shaking his head, though he couldn’t be too sure. His ears, same as his eyes, weren’t the best anymore.

“Then why did you write that down?”

The notebook was insistently pressed into his hand and he slowly opened his eyes again.

_I’m making sandwiches for lunch. Would you like one?_

“Yes please. Thank you, Sam.” Cas’ head sank back against the pillows again, his eyes involuntarily falling shut.

 

Sam slowly made his way to the kitchen. His body refused to move like he wanted and everything had become more difficult with age.

Castiel always asked the same couple of questions. When will Dean come back? What is Dean hunting? Why hasn’t Dean called? Do you think Dean is alright? Don’t you think we should go and help Dean on his hunt?

He didn’t know whether it was a cruel or a gentle fate that had befallen Cas, but there were enough days where Sam wished it was him who had dementia. 

It wouldn’t take long now, he knew that much. Castiel’s health had been declining even more rapidly than usual, and soon it would only be Sam.

On his way to the kitchen he passed a door he hadn’t closed in a long time. They still needed her on occasion, even though the farthest she had gone in decades was the pharmacist on the other side of Lebanon. Sam sometimes though of selling her, but while they could definitely need the money, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, they lived off of online surveys and Sam hustling pool at the local bar every once in a blue moon. It wasn’t like they needed much anyways and the barkeeper tolerated the old mute, perhaps out of pity for a man whose undoubtedly tragic backstory he couldn’t even fathom.

The Impala hadn’t been cleaned properly for years and sometimes her engine complained or didn’t start. Sam was no mechanic. He didn’t know what to tweak and turn to make her purr again, and he didn’t have the energy to find it out. She, like them, would soon be forgotten, rusting away in the carpark of a secret underground bunker, reminiscent of stories and secrets nobody would ever know, remembering how she had been there during the downfall of the greatest family of hunters the world had ever seen, more than forty years ago.

If she were alive, she would have thrown herself in front of the truck that had been too fast and killed Cas, prompting Dean to sell his soul for the second time, this time for the man he loved most in his life. And while Dean was in one hell, his love and his brother were in another. 

But as it were, she was just a car past its prime and Sam barely spared her a glance before continuing to the kitchen. 

 

When he came back to Castiel’s room, he immediately realized something was amiss. Cas’ breathing was too fast and too shallow, his face scrunched in discomfort, eyes shut. Upon hearing Sam setting down the plate with sandwiches, he opened them again.

“Dean?”, he called urgently. 

Sam understood immediately that Cas couldn’t see anymore.

“Dean, where are you?”

Sam sat next to the ex-angel and took his hand, stroking it softly. His eyes were watering.

“Dean.” Castiel smiled, placated. But soon he got aggravated again: “Dean, I can’t see you! Why can’t I see you? Dean? Dean!”

The once-brunette hunter began petting Cas’ cheek and again Cas relaxed for a few moments.

“Dean, I’m afraid.”, he admitted. “Kiss me, please?”

Sam sniffed and rubbed the tears away from his cheek, causing more to fall. He sobbed noiselessly but pressed his lips agains Cas’ forehead. He couldn’t refuse his best friend’s last request. Cas weakly pulled at Sam’s neck until their lips met.

“I love you.”, he whispered with a smile.

Then he drew in his last shuddering breath and let his head loll to the side.

Sam collapsed on top of him, holding onto his still warm body and sobbed. He never got up again.

 

A beautiful 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the most important object in the universe, always loved and cherished and cared for by its owner, collected dust and finally started rusting away, the odd mouse chewing on its tires. She was just an object again, a meaningless heap of metal and leather.

 

The barkeeper of the Lion’s Pub in Lebanon, KAZ, sometimes wondered why he never saw the mute old man again. He didn’t mind much though - the man had rarely bought anything, mostly just hustling pool.

 

 

 

 

_The blinding white light was everywhere, surrounding Castiel and warming him, making him forgetabout the pain and suffering._

_But it wasn’t enough. There was something - someone missing._

_“Dean?”, he asked._

_Nobody answered. The light began fading away, revealing Castiel to be standing on a pier that led to a lake. The colors were warm and there was a chair with the back towards him at the end of that pier, a fishing rod in its retainer next to it._

_Castiel excitedly ran towards the chair, his heart beating fast with hope, a smile spread wide over his face. Had he looked into a mirror, he would have looked just as he did when he came to Earth for the first time all those years ago, except he was smiling broadly, happily._

_The chair was empty._

_Castiel’s heaven was empty, too._

**Author's Note:**

> .............well, there's always room for a part 4 maybe? I don't really know. It's kind of a good ending.


End file.
